


Five Times Tony Worried Peter and Harley Wouldn't Get Along

by fanfictiongreenirises



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Don't copy to another site, Dramatic Irony, Fluff and Humor, Irondad, Multi, Parent Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: And One Time He Didn't.Shenanigans ensue when Harley comes to stay with Tony for a week.





	Five Times Tony Worried Peter and Harley Wouldn't Get Along

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bundibird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bundibird/gifts).



> The idea behind this fic was created from a conversation I had with @bundibird about how a lot of ppl headcanon that Peter and Harley would be jealous/insecure of each other upon first meeting, during which I went _what if it was Tony who was thinking that??_
> 
> @bundibird I hope you like it ^~^ 
> 
> This is my first time writing Harley and Peter btw so I'm hoping they turned out okay. This fic takes place in the Everything Is Happy And Nothing Hurts universe (so,,, Pepper and Tony are married, the Avengers live in the Tower, and also all the mentoring stuff in SM:HC happened,, don't ask what year it is though bc I have no clue).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT. 

####  **5\. He Hadn’t Even Thought Of This As A Problem Until Suddenly He Did (In Which A Documentary Kickstarts the Plotline of This Story)**

Tony would later tell Pepper that it was a perfectly rational train of thinking that led him to all the shenanigans he performed over the course of the week Harley was staying over. Tony had spent months pandering at him to visit – they’d mostly communicated via video calls and texts, and Tony would occasionally fly down to see him – but Harley had kept putting it off for reason after reason. One time it was school (actually, most times it was school, which Tony didn’t understand – weren’t teenagers supposed to jump at the chance to skip class?), and other times it was his mother’s unyielding work schedule (the silence that had emerged after Tony had offered him enough money so that his mother never needed to work another day in her life again spoke words that Tony still tried to understand).

But now it was school break (Tony had thought about bribing Harley’s school to close a month early, but a look from Rhodey had stopped him) and Tony had been corresponding with Harley’s mother for the past few months to make this work. 

He’d set up a room for Harley personally (with the help of the removalists, the furniture people, and an Iron Man suit, because he was nearing fifty and couldn’t be expected to lift an entire bed by himself). It was similar to the one he’d designed for Peter, until Peter had added his own personal touches. One entire wall was a window with the same features as the one in his Malibu home (Tony had designed the whole Tower with it). A bed stood adjacent to it, two large bookshelves with a desk in between opposite. He’d filled up about half the shelf space with books and knick-knacks he thought Harley would like, but left the rest empty – it wasn’t as though Harley would have no luggage.

According to Pepper, a TV in a teenager’s bedroom was a bad idea, so he scrapped that and instead put in a large painting of Iron Man: “JARVIS, make sure you film his reaction when he sees it.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And use your non-lethal defence measures if it looks like he’s going to do something to it. Like draw a beard on it or something. I’m actually kinda fond of this one.”

“Of course, sir.”

JARVIS couldn’t sigh, but Tony heard it all the same.

He checked his watch; there were two days and nine hours left until Harley was going to arrive. He checked it again, because _Peter_ was supposed to arrive at some point this weekend as well but he wasn’t exactly the most timely person… 

“When’s Pete getting here, did May say?”

“In approximately one day and three hours, sir,” JARVIS responded.

Tony nodded sharply, hands rubbing together. (Even at this stage, they were _Harley_ and _Peter_ to him, not _Harley and Peter in the same room at the same time_.)

“Sir, Ms Potts is here.”

Tony perked up instantly. “Living room?” he asked even as he made his way there.

“Yes.”

He walked in just as Pepper was taking her heels off, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She smiled at Tony as he came into her line of vision, head leaning upwards readying itself for a kiss. 

There was a linear set of events that had led Tony here, smiling down at Pepper on a warm, sunny day. He didn’t ponder over it often, because it was terrifying to contemplate what even a single step out of line might have done to his life. If Reed was to be believed, then there was some poor Tony Stark out there in the universe who had never been through Afghanistan, had never changed his life, had never been worthy of having his own Pepper Potts in it.

“What’re you watching?” Tony settled himself beside her, an arm going around the back of the couch.

“I just got turned the TV on,” Pepper said just as the program showed the title _‘Sibling Rivalry: Near, Dear, and Dangerous’_. She snorted. “That’s exaggerating it a bit, don’t you think.”

Tony shrugged. “I dunno, Pep. Have you seen that video of Jeannie letting loose a spider in Rhodey’s closet? Because I have.”

“We live in America, not Australia. The most harm it would’ve done was to his pride and sanity.”

“Sometimes losing your sanity over a spider in your closet is worse than death,” Tony said seriously. “God, I’m so glad she likes me more than Rhodey. If she’d done that to me, I would’ve died prematurely of a heart attack, and then the world would never have been graced with my presence.”

The unasked question lingered between them that Tony knew Pepper wanted to ask but probably never would. Would he have wanted a sibling? The answer was _yes_ , but that his naivety rearing its head. He knew now, looking back on his childhood, that had there been another child stirred into that toxic mix, the two of them wouldn’t have come out of it friends. Howard would have seen to that. He’d never have let them become friends, let alone siblings. Competitions, jealousy, attention – Howard would have had a second chance at moulding another heir, and Tony’s childhood would have become a survival of the fittest.

There was a universe out there where he had a sibling. There was a universe out there where he and they were close. Tony didn’t want to think about that.

  _"…fight to become the ‘favoured’ one in their parents’ eyes. They want to make the other look bad, because they don’t want to be the one that gets replaced…”_

“Why’re we watching this?” Tony murmured. “We already know that Clint hides the cereal to make Thor pissed so he can get the blame for whatever Clint did.”

“Because the narrator has a soothing voice.” Pepper’s head had at some point worked its way under Tony’s chin, ticking his nose with the soft strands of her hair. “You should stop working out so much.” Her voice was already half-asleep.

“Yeah?”

“Then you’d have soft, muscly arms that made better pillows.”

“See if I let you sleep on me again, Potts.”

“Better than the armour, I’ll give you that.”

Plans for an armour designed to sleep in flitted across Tony’s mind. It was a good idea – there were a number of stakeout missions they went on, and it’d be all the more practical when they were away from civilisation. They could bring one less sleeping bag.

_“…it may seem like wanting to hit the baby over the head is a good idea, but you as the parent cannot allow this behaviour. It will only…”_

Pepper was right, Tony thought distantly. The narrator _did_ have a soothing voice. It was really too bad the cup of coffee he’d downed an hour ago was only just beginning to kick in.

_“Parents need to know the power of one-on-one time.”_ Some child psychologist was speaking now. _“Sibling rivalry is essentially a power struggle. Children, like everyone, need to feel powerful from time to time, and they need attention. Kids don’t need to spend time winning arguments if they’re winning time with you.”_

“Oh my god,” Tony said, sitting upright and jostling Pepper into consciousness. “Pepper?”

“What?” she said irritably, closing her eyes again.

“What if Harley and Pete don’t get along? What is they hate each other?”

“Tony, worry about problems when they happen, not before.”

“Prediction is what keeps the world running, and SI too. I don’t even remember if I told Harley about Peter. What if he comes here expecting to spend the entire week with me and gets jealous when he doesn’t?”

Pepper sighed. “They’re two grown kids. Harley has a younger sister – he knows how to share a parent.”

Tony opened his mouth at the P word, and then closed it, having no way of refuting it.

“Guardian, then,” Pepper said, eyeing him. Tony wondered if the terror at being labelled a parent had shown as vividly on his face as it had flashed in his mind. “And Peter’s the friendliest person I know. He and that kid who teases him in school – Flash? He made friends with _him_ as Spider-Man.”

Tony frowned. “Why?”

Pepper shrugged, standing up with a stretch. “Something about jealousy, insecurity, inferiority…” She yawned. “Ask me later. I’m taking a nap.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Tony asked, suddenly worried. Pepper never took naps outright like this.

“Just tired.” She gave him a smile. “I had to wrangle two businessmen into keeping the terms of their contracts today.”

Tony winced in sympathy. 

He sat in front of the TV screen after she left, inhaling every word. There was so much he hadn’t even _thought_ of. He needed to divide his time evenly between the two of them, so neither thought he was playing favourites. But there was the fact that Harley was here _visiting_ , while Peter was here always – he couldn’t do it completely evenly, because that wouldn’t be fair on Harley.

And then there was lavishing Harley with presents – which he’d always done, just because he could – when knowing that Peter didn’t like to accept anything too extravagant. Did he get them the same thing, or did he cater to their personal desires and hope that they didn’t mind when the presents didn’t match or were in two different price ranges?

In the back of Tony’s mind, some part of him he knew that this was ridiculous. He knew that there was no way even a quarter of the stuff hurtling through his head at that moment would be true. He knew Harley and Peter, knew what they were like.

But sibling rivalry was a real thing. And Harley and Peter weren’t even related – they didn’t have that familial tie that would link them and keep the fighting on a rational level. They wouldn’t “keep coming back to each other”, as the documentary said, because they had no prior history to link them. Hell, the only thing that did link them was Tony.

And Tony would do his best to make Peter and Harley, his two favourite people, get along, or die trying.

 

####  **4\. AFineParent Dot Com Said An Affection Circle Was The Right Way To Go About Sharing Emotions (In Which Tony Creates A List Of Ice Breaker Activities)**

“Peter, Harley. Harley, Peter.” Tony gestured between the two of them with a flourish, heart pounding in his chest. Maybe he should’ve started with Harley’s name, since he was the new one here. He was standing right in the centre between the two of them – he’d worn his glasses so they could calculate the exact distance. He was _prepared_.

_Good lord_ , he thought. The last time he’d felt like this was bringing Rhodey to meet Maria, Jarvis, and Ana.

And then there was a gut-wrenching sensation in the pit of his stomach. Harley was _new_ here – should he have stepped so far away and essentially _abandoned_ him—

Peter, as calculated, practically bounded forward with a friendly grin on his face. “Hey, Harley,” he said, completely oblivious to the internal hysteria Tony was currently undergoing. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Harley said. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, but his shoulders were less tense than they had been when Tony had called Peter in. “Tony can’t stop going on about you.” His returning grin was friendly, if a little withdrawn.

Tony needed to have completed that list of ice breakers _yesterday_.

He clapped his hands together. “Okay, gang,” he said in the voice he’d learned from Rhodey’s football coach. “To the kitche—no, actually, let’s have a tour—”

“Mr Stark,” Peter interrupted. “Maybe we should go to the kitchen first. Harley must be hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” Harley announced when Tony looked at him.

“That—that’s worrying, but we’ll have our pit stop first.”

Tony didn’t need Peter eyeing him to tell him that he was acting slightly deranged. He was well aware of the fact. He just didn’t know how to act around these two boys who had come into his life at two very different times. He’d been a different Tony to each of them and finding a midground between the two was much harder than it should’ve been.

He followed Peter into the kitchen. Earlier that day, he’d ordered five batches of cupcakes and restocked the ice cream in the freezer. Not even a team of superheroes could get through all that unless they very seriously wanted to.

Harley whistled as he took in the room. “Damn, I should become a mechanic. You weren’t kidding when you said your place has enough room for me.” 

Tony snorted. “Actually, I was going to make you sleep in the garage. You’d have Mark XLIV and Mark XLV to keep you company.”

Peter was watching the two of them, assessing them and how they acted with one another. He knew this partly because he could see Peter watching them curiously, but mostly because he’d spent the morning reading child psychology journals.

“Harley,” Peter said. “Want a cupcake? There’s proper lunch if you want something filling, too.”

“I’m a slut for cupcakes,” Harley responded, walking over to take the one Peter offered in an outstretched palm.

_Oh my god,_ Tony thought with glee. _Their first interaction without external interference._ He wilfully ignored the weirdness of Harley’s response as Harley carefully peeled the wrapper off the cupcake.

“Mr Stark, you want one?” Peter asked.

“I’m good. I had some this morning.”

“So what’s the plan this week?” Harley asked once they’d migrated to the dining table. A tray of cupcakes sat in front of them, coupled with glasses of juice and ice cream cones.

Tony grinned, showing teeth the way people in toothpaste ads did. “JARVIS, pull up the schedule.” 

“Right away, sir.”

A screen opened up beside them over the table, showing a detailed list of the following seven days. Each list had an alternate to prepare for worst case scenarios: the weather, bad mood, boredom, infrastructural collapse and destruction. There were separate sections purely for food places he thought Harley might like, movies he and Peter might enjoy – build on common interests, the handbook had said – and physical activities to work off their residual energy so they got into less fights.

Pepper had raised an eyebrow at it, but Tony didn’t think it was too over-the-top.

“Yikes,” Harley said mildly, scanning the list. He pulled out pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on after wiping them on his sleeve.

Tony made a face. “You’re going to ruin them if you do that, you heathen. Use a cloth like everyone else.”

“Keep forgetting to bring them with me,” Harley said. “And clothes work just fine.”

Tony was about to say something when Peter interrupted. “Why do you have five things planned at the same time on the same day?”

Tony frowned. “Where?”

“Wednesday after lunch. You have a Pixar marathon, a board game, a _basketball game_ in the gym with the team, a—”

“Sorry, a basketball game against the _Avengers?_ ” Harley whirled to face Tony. “You want me – a baseline, nonathletic sixteen-year-old – to play a sport that requires running up and down a court battling for a ball from _Captain America_ and _Black Widow_? _Hawkeye_? Do I at least get a suit?”

“Well, now that I have your very strong reactions to that, we can cross it off the list,” Tony said in response, considering deleting ice skating from the plan as well. “And no, you do not get a suit.”

“I like the baking option,” Peter offered.

Harley didn’t even seem to study the plan before agreeing to baking. Tony mentally sifted through his newly acquired knowledge of children and decided that there were two reasons for this quick decision making: wanting to one-up each other to look good in the eyes of their guardian (in this case, Tony), or wanting to actually bake.

He dismissed the latter – what sort of a teenager wanted to cook? Hell, the only people he knew now who baked were Bruce and Steve. He needed to plan this out after considering all the variables. God, what had he been _thinking_ putting baking there on the list without doing all the maths behind it?

“Okay, we done snacking? Let’s get you set up, kid.”

 

* * *

 

Harley and Peter had been left alone for exactly fifty-eight minutes and five seconds. Tony knew this because he had a timer up on the side while he finished up with the paperwork. They were currently in the living room, playing a non-violent, non-competitive multiplayer video game that required all participants to work together. 

Tony had spent the last few days clearing the Tower of all games that didn’t fall into this category, and blocking access to them online. Hopefully they’d be satisfied with _Little Big Planet_ _1, 2, 3_ , _Tearaway,_ and _Frizzle Fraz_. There were a series of horse-riding simulators online as well, which Tony spent much too long playing before deeming them appropriate and bookmarking the website for future reference.

“Okay, J, bring up that ice-breaker list?” Tony said, leaning back on his chair.

A list appeared before Tony, a compilation of an hour’s research and another hour’s _ultra-_ research. The last time Tony had studied something like this, he was completing a PhD. A little bit of Pepper had rubbed off on him over the years, because a considerable part of him trilled at the formatting choices. He’d even colour coded it based on the atmosphere of the room.

Most of the things he’d found required a large group, activities he’d never realised were a common part of life like “two truths, one lie” and “10 things in common bingo”. There were weird ones like the game titled “Shoe Talk” that involved matching people with their shoes.

In the end, Tony shortlisted three.

Harley and Peter were both staring at the screen fixatedly when he walked in. Their normally fidgety, midget bodies were eerily still as they hunched forward while the burlap sacks on the screen moved to do their bidding. As Tony watched, one of them – Peter’s one, he thought – moved to jump onto a moving button, avoiding whatever the hell the attacker was. He held his breath, letting it out when the avatar landed properly, leaving the doorway wide open for Harley to jump through and grab the key they needed to finish the level.

Only when the game announced their success did the two boys relax, each wrapped up in their individual celebration. Tony was pleasantly surprised by the lack of animosity, trash talking, and put downs, but this wasn’t enough. Not when high-fives were a thing.

“You two ready for something different?” Tony said to announce him presence.

Harley and Peter turned to look at him simultaneously, and Tony had a vivid flashback to Mrs Rhodes’ two pet birds. 

“Sure,” Harley said readily. “I think we’ve almost finished this.”

Tony paused. “How long have you been playing for?” he asked.

Peter and Harley glanced at each other. “We’re just really good,” Peter said.

Tony scrutinised them. Were they hiding traces of bullying?

The longer he stared at them, the more they stared back. Finally, Harley spoke up. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little stuck.”

It wasn’t as though he thought either of them _were_ bullies – it was the opposite, really. They were both a little like turtles, or clamfish. Tony knew that sometimes kids, particularly teenagers, took things the wrong way or said things they didn’t mean. Sometimes they didn’t realise that they’d said something to hurt another. Sometimes they were jealous and insecure and dumb, because they were teenagers vying for the attention of one sole adult.

It took time but they eventually got to the common room – the more private common room that Tony found cosier. He’d set it up with beanbags and there were snacks in a bowl in the centre, but nothing that might make them feel sick late at night. He ignored the strange look he received from the two of them at the sight of the bowl of watermelon and plate of saltines.

“We’re going to play a few fun games I played when I was in high school,” Tony announced, settling himself onto one of the beanbags. He’d underestimated how deep he’d sink into the polystyrene and was suddenly engulfed in fabric. He heard a muffled snort as he went down, arms flailing slightly.

“Tony,” Peter said with a completely straight face once he’d re-emerged, “you never went to high school.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective,” Tony countered, finally balanced. “In most countries, high school starts after fifth or sixth grade, and I started at MIT when I should’ve gone to eighth.”

Harley gave him a look. “What’s your point?” he asked, munching loudly on a saltine-watermelon sandwich. 

Sometimes it really paid to have Harley around, Tony thought as he wrinkled his head at Harley’s eating habits. Harley opened his mouth as wide as it could go, cramming the concoction into it, cheeks bulging like a fish as he tried to chew.

Peter was watching Harley. “We should play Chubby Bunny,” he announced.

Tony had no idea what Harley said in response, but judging by the nodding, he figured it was somewhere along the lines of ‘yes’. And then his mind caught up to what Peter had said: ‘chubby bunny’. Tony’s mind whirred into action, trying to remember if he’d seen this particular name on his lists of “Absolutely Not”, “No”, or even “Maybe For Mature Kids Who Already Get Along” activities.

It only brought to mind websites regarding body image. “Um,” he fought to bring this discussion back under his control, “how about no. I already invited Cap and Rhodey and stuff, anyway, and they’re too old for us to go about changing the itinerary like that.”

A pillow landed at Tony’s feet. “I heard that,” Rhodey said. “And I’ll have you know I’m not a day over forty.”

Any liquid inside Tony’s sinuses exited as he snorted. “Nice aim, honeybear.”

“Didn’t want to jar your head, old man,” Rhodey said, walking past Tony to greet Harley and Peter.

“Hi, Mr Rhodey,” Peter said with a small wave.

“Hey, Pete,” Rhodey replied with an easy smile. “And you must be Harley.”

Harley stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you, sir.” 

“None of this ‘sir’ business, kid. Call me Rhodey or James or Jim.” Rhodey used Harley’s outstretched hand to gently tug him into a half-hug, half-shoulder-thump.

Harley nodded sharply, eyes slightly wide at Rhodey. Tony realised, at that moment, that Harley would probably be just like Peter when he met the Avengers, maybe a bit less outwardly obvious about it.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice sounded, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late. Nat had me doing cardio and it got…ugly.”

“We were just getting started, Cap,” Tony said. He didn’t even try to get up, knowing he’d need someone to tug him up. He glanced at his watch; Pepper should be here any minute, now, too. “Steve, this is Harley. Harley, Steve.”

Steve walked over to Harley, holding out a fist. “Hi, Harley. Tony’s been talking about you for months.”

Harley lightly tapped Steve’s fist. “Hi. Steve.” He had to look up to make eye contact with Steve, a problem Tony solved by installing lifts in all his shoes and wearing the occasional heeled boot. “Tony talked a lot about you, too.”

Pepper walked, in wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Tony furrowed his brows at the sight. There was something just a bit off about the image, but he wasn’t quite sure what, yet.

“Hey, honey,” he called, waving from his vantage point. “When did you get back?”

“Uh, little while ago.” Pepper smiled, but there was an undercurrent to it that Tony couldn’t put his finger on. “Hey, Harley. I hope these guys treated you well, and you haven’t been eating,” she tilted her head, “watermelon on saltines all day. I need real food. Excuse me.”

Tony blinked, looking wordlessly at Rhodey. Rhodey looked back and shrugged. A grin tugging at his lips when Tony reached out a hand in a silent demand to be pulled up.

_No_ , Rhodey mouthed, crossing his arms.

_Fuck you_ , Tony replied back wordlessly, trying in vain to stand up from the bean bag with his dignity still intact.

Finally free, he followed Pepper to the kitchen, where she was rifling through the cupboards, pursing her lips as she searched for something.

“Hey,” Tony said, walking up to her.

Pepper turned to him. “Hi,” she said warmly. This time she was the one who tugged him forward by his shirt, leading Tony into a kiss that was far too heated for a kitchen with two kids and two Avengers just a wall away.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Pepper told him. “I just had a day of eating nothing but salads and dried fruit, and now I want real food.”

Tony looked at her thoughtfully. “You want my special—”

“No,” Pepper interrupted him, but not unkindly. “You should get back to the others. I’m going to put together a bowl of peanut butter, ice cream, caramel syrup, maybe some M&M’s, and then I’ll join you.”

Tony stared at her in horror. “Oh my god, you _cannot_ bring that out in front of them!”

“Who, Steve and Rhodey?” Pepper had gone back to hunting for her ingredients. “It’s not like they’re paragons of health. Have you seen the shit Steve puts into his body? It’s like Zac Efron from _17 Again_.”

“No,” Tony hissed. “Harley and Peter!”

Pepper paused. “Do I even want to know why?” she asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Kids shouldn’t have too much energy, particularly from sugary products. It ruins their dinner, firstly, and if it’s left unused, it might make them turn on each other! And the sugar will make it hard for them to sleep, so they’ll be tired tomorrow as well!”

Pepper looked at him for a moment. Finally, she said, “Is this why you take so long in the bathroom now? Because you’re reading articles on parenting?”

Tony spluttered. “I take a perfectly reasonable time, I’ll have you know. And the shower is an _excellent_ place for some light reading.”

“Tony.” Pepper sighed. “You don’t have to worry about them so much. They’ll sort themselves out on their own, and your meddling might get in the way of that. They’re both reasonably well-adjusted, they have similar interests, and they’re about the same age. What could go wrong?”

Tony opened his mouth to tell her exactly what could go wrong, and she stuffed a spoonful of peanut butter in it.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, now that we’re all here, we can finally begin.” Peter and Harley were seated beside each other, within kicking distance. Tony didn’t know whether he should be happy that they’d chosen to sit together or watch them closely in case one of them decided to cheat.

Not that any of the games he’d picked were particularly cheatable.

“First up we have something called ‘Teeth’…”

The rules of Teeth were simple. It was also something that Tony would probably have only played whilst under the influence of some sort of mind-altering substance.

Players all sat in a circle and chose a fruit or vegetable – this was shared with the group. Player A began by saying their own food twice (“apple, apple”) followed by the name of the food they wanted to pass it along to (“apple, apple, carrot, carrot”). However, if the player showed teeth while saying any of this, others in the group who noticed would then have to immediately shout “teeth, teeth” (without revealing their own), while flapping their arms like wings. Players would lose or gain points accordingly.

“Sounds fun,” Steve said cheerfully after Tony had laid out the rules.

“Did you come up with this yourself?” Peter asked Tony. “Just curious.”

“That’s confidential information,” Tony told him.

“I want to be ‘cucumber’,” Rhodey announced.

“You look good in green,” Tony said. “I will therefore be—”

“I’m apple!” Harley immediately shouted.

“I’m cherry!” Peter said at the same time.

“I’m capsicum,” Steve said with a glint in his eye.

“I’ll be strawberry,” Pepper added.

Tony was beginning to feel somewhat attacked. “As I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, I’ll be mango.”

“Drat,” he heard Harley mutter to Peter, before saying something too quiet for him to follow along.

He should’ve sat closer.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Tony said. “Mango, mango. Apple, apple.” His selections were easy without teeth. As long as he never went for Pepper or Steve, he’d be fine.

“Apple, apple, cap-shi-cum, cap-shi-cum,” Harley pronounced carefully.

“Cap-shi-cum, cap-shi-cum, sh-traw—” Steve began.

“ _Teeth, teeth!”_ Rhodey frantically flapped his arms, expression of intense concentration.

 

* * *

 

Within two hours, Tony’s brain had given itself over to the headache that had been building ever since Harley threw popcorn at Peter, which had led to a food fight between all parties. He – the paragon of maturity that he was – had sat there staring at them in blind shock, trying to comprehend how Pepper, the woman who had once told him off for having his shirt tucked in too tight, could possibly throw a crushed watermelon at his face. 

But that was all in the past – it was now time for the activity that Tony had spent _hours_ putting through a simulator (which he had also spent hours perfecting to be the most accurate): the empathy circle.

It was a combo of a few types of games designed to make participants see each other as people with idiosyncrasies. It helped them bond, to respect each other if not get along, to see one another as complex organisms…

In other words, it was supposed to have _very_ positive outcomes for Peter and Harley.

Tony tapped his MIT ring against his coffee mug, trying out for the same effect a spoon against a champagne glass had. “Alrighty, gang. Time we move on to broader pastures and higher mountains,” he called.

“Was that a _Lord of the Rings_ reference?” Peter muttered to Rhodey.

“Kid, even if you understand Tony’s references, just pretend you don’t. Drives him nuts,” Rhodey responded. Steve held out a closed fist towards him, which Rhodey tapped.

“I’m the proud founder of this game, so any issues, just email JARVIS and he’ll let me know.” Tony cleared his throat. “I call it… _never have I ever_.”

There was silence, before Peter raised a hand tentatively. “Mister Doctor Stark? That game already exists.”

Tony ignored him. “The rules are simple. Everyone has ten pieces of fruit. We go round in a circle, and whoever’s turn it is goes “ _never have I ever_ ” and says something they’ve never done, and if you’ve done it, you eat your fruit and tell us the story, and then other people chip in about the story and give you feedback. Sound good?”

Tony got four pairs of blinks at him.

“I’ll dole out the goods,” he said, activating the armour through his wrist watch.

Mark CDXX – part of a separate line of armours – waltzed out. This armour was completely black, with a gold sheen to it only visible in certain lighting (i.e. disco balls and the like). It was outlined in neon, and it was the love of Tony’s life.

The flashy armour walked over to them, carrying a platter of five bowls, each containing ten grapes. It walked by everyone, handing them a plate. Tony resisted the urge to kiss it thanks on its neon-pink outlined mouth slit as it handed him his, instead signalling for the armour to stand sentry nearby.

 “Why don’t you take it out to fights with you?” Peter asked, staring after the Mark CDXX in awe.

Harley was nodding. “The big dick energy in that thing would level your enemies.” 

Tony mouthed the words _big dick energy_ and decided he liked them. He shrugged. “It’s part of my line of party armours.”

“Your _what?_ ”

“So now that we have our fruit,” Tony said, “we can begin! Pepper can start.”

Pepper, who had been reorganising the grapes in her bowl, looked up. “Um,” she said. “The goal of this is to be the one with the most grapes left?”

Tony nodded.

“Okay. Never have I ever eaten a strawberry.”

Rhodey frowned. “Wouldn’t you have to have tried it at some point to know you’re allergic?”

Pepper shook her head. “There were traces of strawberry in some other food I ate, so they tested me.”

“You’re really missing out, Pepper,” Peter told her as he ate a grape. “You should get Tony to make you like…tofu strawberry.”

“Okay, now we need to all share our most memorable strawberry related incident!” Tony said brightly.

Steve gave him a thoughtful look as he chewed. “The first time I tried one in this century was pretty great, seeing how the only time I’d tried them was when Howard had canned strawberries imported from France and they tasted…weird. Clint put two boxes in front of me, and told me that one was poisonous and the other wasn’t, and that I had to pick one or he’d do it for me.”

“What the fuck?” Tony muttered. “When was this and why wasn’t I invited?”

“It’s really no fun telling near death experiences when you’re alive, huh,” Harley commented, making Peter snort.

“So I grabbed a handful from each box and shoved them all into my mouth, because this was the first time I’d met Clint and I didn’t want him thinking I couldn’t handle a little poison. The serum probably would’ve taken care of it.”

There was a pause before Rhodey said, “Y’know, Rogers, you would’ve fit right into MIT.”

Harley was saying something to Peter. “Those PSA’s _lied!_ ” he hissed. “Cap’s like…a frat boy.”

“I’ll tell you this one detention story later. Cap has super-hearing and can probably hear us.”

“Tony doesn’t have super-hearing and _he_ can still hear you,” Tony commented, watching Harley and Peter jump.

“I thought you were the cool aunt,” Harley said accusingly.

Rhodey laughed aloud. “What gave you that idea?”

“We’re getting way off topic here,” Tony tried to say, before Steve spoke.

“Wait, are you talking about those ‘ _eat healthy, kids’_ videos from like 2011?” At their confused nods, he kneaded his forehead with a thumb and forefinger. “God, I can’t believe they’re still showing those. My costume was the _worst_.”

“Damn right it was,” Tony broke in. “This was before I started designing them. Also, what’re we talking about?”

“The Captain America PSAs were a series of short speeches given by Captain Rogers and designed specifically for school-aged children,” JARVIS said.

Tony’s eyes lit up. “Why am I only hearing about this now? JARVIS, play them!”

“ _No_ ,” Steve groaned. “Tony, you said you wanted us to bond, right? This isn’t bonding.”

Tony paused. Steve was right. The most Harley and Peter would get out of it would be to never listen to Captain America in school again. “I’m watching them when you least expect it,” Tony said, pointing a finger at Steve. He took a breath. “Okay, who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Peter said, raising a hand. “Never have I ever been taller than 5’7.” 

“You midget,” Harley said as he ate a grape.

Tony’s head at that immediate instant was flashing emergency lights, but he forced himself to do nothing as he watched Peter remain comfortable. “I keep offering to get you lifts in your shoes and you keep turning me down.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m comfortable in my shortness, unlike some people.”

“Low blow, Pete,” Rhodey said. “Next time Tony’s not here, remind me to tell you about that time with the butter knife on the top shelf in our dorm.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll ever leave again,” Tony said.

Peter gaped at him. “I didn’t teach you that meme.”

“I’m meme savvy,” Tony said, flashing him a peace sign. “I’m hip and cool and I know the lingo of the streets.”

“I taught him,” Harley told Peter.

 

* * *

 

The game wasn’t going very fast, but everyone was enjoying themselves, and there were surprising revelations all round. The closer the clock ticked to midnight, the less laser-beam concentration Tony paid to Peter and Harley. He liked to believe it was because he realised that they were becoming friends and were getting along well, but the truth was that he was yawning every five minutes. If he ever figured out time travel, the first thing he was going to do would be to harness half the energy he had in his twenties and redistribute it across his lifespan.

“Last round, everyone!” Pepper called. “Some of us are in our fifties.”

“Speak for yourself, Pep,” Rhodey said, rubbing his hands together. “Steve and I are doing great.”

“I’m in my twenties, Rhodes. Of course I’m doing great,” Steve responded.

“Never have I ever chewed gum,” Harley said.

“That’s very specific,” Rhodey said, eating a grape.

Steve and Peter were the only two who didn’t. Tony looked at them. “Talk,” he said, waving a hand as he stifled a yawn.

Peter looked at Steve. “I dunno if you’ve researched spiders before, but they don’t like peppermint. I guess that must’ve translated over when I got bit. I’d never been allowed it before, because Aunt May thought I’d swallow it.”

“That’s fascinating,” Tony said, leaning forward. “JARVIS, add that to the Spidey Can’t list, please.”

“Entry added,” JARVIS said.

“Rogers, what’s your excuse?”

“I just…never had a chance to try it?” Steve shrugged. “It was insanely popular when I was a kid – actually, they used the phrase “more popular than soap” – but I was allergic to most of the ingredients they used.”

Mark CDXX walked over to Steve with a tiny platter in hand, covered with a lid.

“Really, Tony?” Steve said as he uncovered it to reveal a bright green packet of gum. “Now?”

“No time like the present,” Tony told him. “And pass me one. Pepper only kisses me when I’m minty fresh.”

Steve took one out and tossed the packet to Tony. He unwrapped it carefully; it was amusing seeing such large fingers working so cautiously on something so small. Steve brandished it when it was in the open. Harley began a drum roll on the floor, which the rest of them joined in immediately.

“Wow, no pressure, right,” Steve said. He sniffed it first, cocking his head to the side.

“You’ve eaten what you thought were poisonous strawberries, and now you’re afraid of this?” Rhodey said, shaking his head.

Steve placed it in his mouth. Tony could see his tongue moving around in it, and he wondered how Steve’s taste buds worked. Were they also heightened, like the rest of his senses? They must be – could Erskine have calculated for his tongue, and altered it for just one muscle? He opened up the chat with JARVIS, typing, _J, remind me to get Steve in the lab to do tests on his tongue_.

_Of course, sir. Shall I remind you hourly, daily, weekly, monthly…?_

Tony thought for a moment, staring at Steve’s face as it reacted to the gum inside his mouth. _Remind me after Harley leaves_.

JARVIS sent him the thumbs up emoji.

“So?” Pepper asked. “How is it?”

Steve thought for a moment. “Minty,” he finally said. “It’s very chewy and not…going anywhere… It’s kind of annoying, actually.”

“Wait till the tabloids hear that Captain America doesn’t like gum,” Tony said. “Also, don’t try to swallow it. It’ll kill your insides.”

“I really wish you’d said that five seconds ago.”

Tony sighed. “Well, the serum is always here for your many, many human problems.” He signalled the Mark CDXX to bring him a glass of water. “Who’s turn is it now?”

“Yours,” Rhodey told him.

Tony rubbed his hands together, eyeing the number of grapes everyone had left. Since they’d just started this round, only Peter, Harley, and Steve still had all ten.

“Never have I ever cut my own hair,” he said.

“Screw your rich ass,” Rhodey said, tossing a grape in the air and catching it in his mouth. “We didn’t have barbers with us in warzones.”

“Next upgrade you’re getting is an armour that can shave your head for you,” Tony told him. “Also, why has everyone cut their own hair?”

Harley shrugged. “YOLO?” he said.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “I know that’s an outdated saying. You can’t get me to say that in public.”

Harley shrugged. “Your loss.”

“I really wanted a fringe when I was a kid, and I knew no one else could do it as well as I could,” Pepper said.

“That’s the most in character thing ever,” Peter told her. “I cut mine because I got Blu-tack in it.”

“I cut mine regularly when there was no one else to do it,” Steve said.

Tony finally understood what group mentality was, because he was having a strong urge to cut his hair himself so he wasn’t the odd one out. “JARVIS, make sure these poor folks have the number of my barber in their contacts, all charges to me. I’m in physical pain hearing this.”

And on it went, until Steve was the first down to one grape. The rest of them had two or three left.

“Never have I ever worn heels,” Steve said, eyeing Pepper’s two grapes.

Surprisingly, everyone ate a grape.

Steve blinked. “I gotta say, I didn’t expect that,” he said.

“Tony wears heels because he’s tiny,” Rhodey said. “I’ve tried out my mother’s heels. Pepper wears heels all the time – do you even own flats?”

“Ned and I needed heels for a cosplay thing,” Peter said, the words coming out slightly stuttered.

Harley looked at him. “You guys cosplay? That’s so cool!” he said, and Peter gave him the biggest grin.

“Yeah, we’ve been dressing up together since we had Book Week in first grade. We’ve come a long way.”

Tony wanted to get out a camera and take videos of this moment. This night was a definite success in his books.

 

####  **3\. He Had No Idea How Much Energy It Took Keeping Up With Two Teenage Boys (Wherein Tony Decides To Cut Off Sugary And Unhealthy Products)**

Tony collapsed on the couch. “This is how I die, JARVIS,” he said. “From wasting away running after two giraffe-legged toddlers.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Might I suggest anti-aging cream?”

“Don’t make me write you out of the will, J.”

Tony had spent the entire day with Peter and Harley. He’d woken extra early to watch over breakfast productions – he’d ordered in from someplace healthy but also nutritional but also tasty – and since then it’d been a non-stop rollercoaster of events that had led to where he was now, sinking into the cushions of his two-thousand-dollar couch.

It was money well-spent, he had to admit. He could fall asleep right here.

“Tony?” he heard from somewhere nearby.

“Is he breathing?”

“Fuck, I don’t have a sword to check wi—”

“ _Why would you need a sword_ —”

“To hold in front of his nose—”

Tony felt something press onto his chest, and he grunted out a ‘leave me alone’.

“Oh, he’s alive.”

The voices left him to nap.

 

* * *

 

Waking up, the first thing Tony noticed was that he was in bed, under the covers. Pepper was asleep beside him, curled into a pillow that she was clutching with one hand. Tony watched her for a little while, idly studying her deep breaths as she dreamt. 

And then he looked around to see how the fuck he’d gotten to bed when the last thing he remembered was the living room couch.

“JARVIS?” he whispered, looking to see whether Pepper stirred. When she didn’t, he continued, “What happened?”

JARVIS’ voice sounded from the speaker closest to him, volume as quiet as it could go and still allow Tony to make out his words. “Masters Parker and Keener asked me to ensure you made it to bed properly, sir.”

“And what’d you do?”

“I tasked the job to Mark DCCLXXVII.”

“You mean the Mr Sandman armour _carried_ me here?”

“Indeed, sir.” 

Tony sighed and got out of bed. He groaned quietly as he stood up, muscles sore from god knows what. He hadn’t realised how much energy it took to keep up both physically and mentally with Peter and Harley. The two of them combined would jump from topic to topic, and after about midday, Tony stopped paying attention to anything they were saying.

None of this would’ve happened had they not cut off his caffeine after the fourth cup.

“Okay, lab time, J,” Tony said. The hallways lit up with blue lights, leading the way to Tony’s workshop. “We gotta go over their daily sugar intake.” 

 

* * *

 

It was about midday when the effects of Tony’s decision started to have an impact. Peter and Harley had both been fine with Weetbix for breakfast with slices of peach and a glass of orange juice - they needed  _some_ sugar in their system.

They’d been fine with quiche for lunch, made by Natasha and Bruce – a fine duo when it came to cooking, apparently. They’d spent the entire time they were eating quizzing Bruce about his research; Bruce had answered slightly bewildered – he obviously didn’t get many fans coming up to him to discuss his work in anti-electron collisions.

But it seemed that playing _Ratrace_ without Skittles was too much for Peter, which was definitely a psychological thing, because Tony had calculated for his heightened metabolism and his required calorie and sugar intake, and Skittles weren’t on any list of things Peter needed.

Particularly because it was definitely the Skittles’ fault for Tony’s near death the day before.

“Hey, Tony?” Peter called. Tony could hear him opening and closing the cupboard doors, rifling through them. “Where’s all the stuff you stocked in here? You said that not even the Avengers could finish all the ice-cream you got, but it’s gone.”

“Yeah, about that, Pete.” Tony cleared his throat. “JARVIS and I have decided you two have way too much sugar. So we’re having an intervention.”

Harley looked at him with utmost betrayal. “I trusted you,” he said accusingly. “I’ve only been here like one full day! You need at least the entire week to decide something this big!”

“Trust me, kid, I saw all I needed to see in that time. Really says something, doesn’t it? Oh, and I read a bunch of journals and articles about it, and talked to this lovely lady called Sue Ann who has five children and seven grandchildren.” Tony stood by this decision. But he was also going to call May up to see how she dealt with this. Maybe spider children were different. 

“Sue Ann?” Harley wrinkled his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t base this decision off someone who feeds their kids kale and dried oats and thinks that a snack is celery sticks in hummus.”

“No, of course not,” Tony lied.

That was the point when, looking back, Tony thinks it all began. He probably should’ve lied to them, told them that Clint had gotten hungry during the night, or that ten tubs of ice cream in one hour were all that kept Natasha’s cramps at bay. But he had a policy of not lying to kids when he could help it.

Peter and Harley randomly began to disappear.

“JARVIS, where’d they go this time?” Tony asked wearily after a bathroom break – that they both needed simultaneously – had gone on for over thirty minutes. He frowned. “Hey, do you think that sugar withdrawal is a thing? What if they get irritable now and decide to fight it out?”

“Sir, I can assure you that no blood has been spilt within the residential floors, nor have any gauntlets been throw.” Tony knew that JARVIS was getting fed up when he resorted to medieval references.

Tony stretched, wondering what to do. It was, as forecasted, raining outside, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t work out their energy. “Should I take them to the roof or to the gym?” he wondered aloud. 

In the end, he took them to his lab. He needed to get work done, and he wanted them to have fun doing what they loved – fiddling with tech. Tony hadn’t had many people in his lab. He didn’t allow many people there; for him it was more home than anything else, and Tony was protective of the things he loved. The only people who had passcodes for the workshop were Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, Natasha, and Peter.

He didn’t know whether he should give Harley one – he loved the kid, but it’d taken him a while to trust Peter in there, because in the lab, _fondness_ and _affection_ weren’t important. Safety was.

Tony had a pretty good idea of how Harley would fit into the workshop. He’d been down to Tennessee a bunch of times, had worked with him in the garage tweaking motorbikes and potato guns alike. He knew that Harley was capable and bright, that he knew how to use safety gear.

He also knew that teenagers were dumbasses, gave in to peer pressure way too easily, and were much too eager to do stupid shit to impress their peers. It was why he had a list the length of his arm on where to put Harley’s workbench. 

(Happy had walked in on him and made fun of it, so Tony had never actually finished it. But that was fine; it was in his head anyway.)

In the end, upon having a game of rock, paper, scissors with JARVIS, Tony had decided to put Harley and Peter’s benches exactly 3.96 metres apart – two swords and an inch. He didn’t pile anything onto it, knowing that Harley would probably like to come in with his own ideas and populate it himself. Instead, he’d custom printed a small nameplate, similar to the type that sat on professors’ desks, and placed it at the head. 

“I hope you two don’t mind being practically on top of each other,” Tony began, a screwdriver travelling from hand to hand as he surveyed the two boys.

“It’s perfect, Mr Stark,” Peter interrupted. He was bouncing – _literally_. He was rising and falling as he spoke, and every step he took was practically a small leap. As he spoke, it was as though he’d forgotten to turn off caps lock, and each individual word had an invisible exclamation mark accompanying it. “We were talking about my web fluid! Harley wants to help me improve it!”

Tony raised an eyebrow, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. “Okay…” he said slowly. “Harley, you’re welcome to most things here. Just have fun. The only real rule is no murder. Explosions inside the lab should also be avoided, if possible.”

Harley was tapping his fingers on the surface of the bench, making it vibrate visibly. His eyes had a strange manic energy that made Tony nervous. “Got it, Tony,” he said. “You can go back to doing your work. Pete and I’ll be fine.”

With that, the two of them huddled around Peter’s work area. He had a notebook – that he kept either in Tony’s lab or his house – which detailed every iteration of the web fluid Spider-Man used.

Tony squinted suspiciously. “JARVIS,” he whispered. “Keep an eye on them, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

 

* * *

 

The first thing that alerted Tony was the giggling. The workshop was quiet – there was soft rock playing quiet enough that if someone was to speak normally, the others would be able to pick up every word. So Tony, who was pacing by the holographic projection of the Quinjet model he was designing, could hear the hushed whispers and snorts of laughter. 

It was almost as though…

Tony’s eyes shot up and every part of his body froze. 

He whistled, causing them to glance up immediately. Peter had that look in his eyes, the paranoid squirrel gaze that made it incredibly obvious he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. Harley was _much_ better at his poker face.

“Get over here, kids,” he called. They scampered over, still oozing with unused energy. He had no doubt that if they’d gone up against the Avengers in that basketball match today, they would’ve beaten them on pure adolescent fuel. “We’re going to try something.”

Harley cocked his head to the side. “What is it?”

Tony wondered how much he should tell him. “Drug test,” he said.

Peter choked on air.

Harley’s face screwed up like he was trying his hardest to hold in laughter.

“Okay, press your finger here.” Tony took one of Peter’s fingers and pressed it to the machine.

Peter let out a small hiss as it pricked him. “Aren’t you supposed to get consent for this?” he asked, sucking on it.

“You have no evidence,” Harley protested even as he offered his own.

“I have plenty,” Tony responded. “JARVIS?”

“Sir.” the A.I. hesitated in answering him, and Tony wondered just how bad it was. He braced himself for something _truly_ bad— “They merely have an incredible amount of sugar in their systems.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He looked at the two of them, standing in front of him biting down on their lips to stop themselves from cracking up.

“How?” he finally got out, voice weary.

Peter glanced at Harley, as though seeking silent permission. “Harley brought over snacks when he came,” he said. “But we didn’t have _that_ much.”

“We just wanted to see how much Pete’s metabolism could take,” Harley said earnestly.

“This is what I get for banning junk products,” Tony muttered to himself. “Did you figure it out?”

Harley shrugged. “We’ll have to do more tests for more conclusive data,” he answered.

Tony felt a smile grow across his face. This would be one of _those_ stories that got told at birthdays, he could already tell. And it'd apparently gotten them to bond with each other. “Maybe next time don’t test it on yourself at the same time?” he suggested.

“I can’t believe you thought we were _doing drugs!”_ Peter burst out. He was still bouncing up and down. “Us. Drugs. Where would we even _get_ them?”

Tony ruffled his hair. “Let’s get the idea of illegal substances out of your innocent mind.”

Now all he had to do was set them loose in the gym with someone scary like Natasha, and they'd be dead by their bedtime.

 

####  **2\. There Should Be A Scientific Way To Differentiate Between Affectionate And Bullying Taunts (At Which Point Tony Realises That Having Sleepovers Would Maximise The Amount Of Time He Could Spend With Peter And Harley)**

“Oh my god,” Tony said suddenly, sitting upright in bed just as he was getting to sleep.

Beside him, Pepper groaned slightly. “What?” she mumbled. “Don’t tell me it’s another invention, _please_. None of your late-night ones have gone right.” 

“The hot-dog microwave thing was _ingenious_ ,” Tony told her distractedly. “No, it’s not that. I just remembered that movie – what was it? – the one where they go summer camp but they’re also twins but they don’t believe they’re twins and—”

“—they try to get their parents back together.” Pepper nodded, stifling a yawn.

“Sir, I believe you may be thinking of _The Parent Trap_ ,” JARVIS said.

Tony snapped his finger. “Yup. That’s it. It was on the list of movies I was reviewing before Harley came, and—”

“—oh no—” Pepper murmured as she planted her face into her pillow.

“—I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before, but I could have _sleepovers_ with them to make sure they don’t pull pranks on each other in the middle of the night when no one’s monitoring them.” 

Pepper kneaded her forehead. “Tony, they’re friends. Even you said that Harley was helping Peter out with his web fluid. And they’re both good kids. They wouldn’t—”

“I know, but sometimes it’s unintentional.” Tony leaned back against the headboard. It was just past midnight; they were definitely both still awake. Maybe he should spring it on them now—no, he needed  to plan this out, not go into anything rash…

Pepper sat up abruptly, causing Tony to glance to her, wondering if she’d decided to forgo sleep and join him. But then she stumbled out of bed, wobbling magnificently as she headed to the bathroom.

“Pep?” Tony rushed to his feet, on high alert as retching sounds came through the thin wall. He walked in to see her crouched by the toilet bowl, heaving out what sounded like her insides. Tony gathered up Pepper’s hair, holding it out of the way as she emptied her stomach contents.

After a little while, Pepper slumped back, leaning against Tony’s legs. Tony took the opportunity to flush, reaching to the counter to grab a glass of water for water.

“Did you eat something weird?” he asked, trying to think back to that day.

Pepper shrugged. “Must’ve,” she said, not looking at him.

“We should go see a doctor—” Tony tried to say, before he was cut off.

“It’s fine, Tony. It’s probably a one-off thing. I’ll be fine.” Pepper splashed her face with water, shivering slightly. “And if it’s not fine, I’ll consider the doctor,” she added.

Tony couldn’t control the niggling at the pit of his stomach, but he nodded anyway. “You’d tell me, right? If something was wrong?”

“Of course I would,” Pepper assured him with a squeeze of his hand.

 

* * *

 

Pepper seemed alright the following morning, enough to be up at the usual time getting ready for work. Tony decided to wait to see whether she showed consistent symptoms before panicking too much, and went to find his boys.

(That particular phrasing made him falter in the hallway as he walked to the common kitchen. What was even stranger was that there was no rush of panic at the thought.)

Peter and Harley were seated at the kitchen table with Clint. Tony blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The three of them jumped guiltily when they saw him approach, but before Tony could call them out on it, JARVIS spoke. 

“Sir, I believe there’s an issue with the toaster,” he said. “Please hurry to the pantry.”

“I—the toaster?” Tony repeated, rapidly changing direction. “What’s wrong with the toaster? Did Thor get to it?”

“I do not have cameras inside the pantry,” JARVIS told him. (Rather sulkily, Tony thought – JARVIS brought up the lack of visuals in the pantry and fridge every time some sort of problem arose.)

He sighed. “Is it going to blow?” 

There was a silence, which Tony took to be another pointed hint towards the camera issue again.

But when he got inside, the toaster seemed perfectly fine. In fact, it’d been polished to perfection – Steve must’ve gotten to it at some point, and no one had touched it since. Regardless, Tony quickly took it apart, checking to make sure it wasn’t going to explode on the next user.

“J?” he called. “It’s completely fine.”

“I apologise, sir,” JARVIS said. “Perhaps something went wrong with my systems.”

“I’ll scan you for any bugs after breakfast,” he promised.

This time when Tony made his way back to the table, Harley, Peter, and Clint were still there, but it looked as though a crafts store had exploded between them. They each had a piece of A3 paper in front of them, and in the middle, there were packets of various markers and pencils. Covering absolutely everything was glitter.

Tony felt his eyebrows reach his hairline as he paused before them, taking it all in.

“Hey, Tony,” Harley said casually. “What was up with the toaster?”

“We didn’t touch it,” Peter said, putting PVA glue all over paddle pop sticks and rolling them in the glitter. “Captain Rogers made us breakfast.”

“There’s a plate of pancakes for you by the stove, Tony,” Clint said. He was rocking back and forth on his chair, and glitter was being showered all over the floor.

Tony hadn’t really paid close attention, but he was pretty sure they hadn’t been doing this when he’d walked in before. “I’ll get right on it,” he said, still staring. “What’re you kids up to? Did Uncle Clint decide to take on babysitting today?”

“Clint’s teaching us the finer points of _artsmanship_ ,” Peter said.

Tony brought over the plate of pancakes, sitting on the countertop so he didn’t have to worry about ingesting glitter and glue and whatever else there was. They’d probably need to hire professional cleaners to be able to eat on that surface again. “Is he now,” Tony said around a bite of strawberry soaked in maple syrup. “Didn’t think Clint was about the arts." 

“What, d’you think I was a _jock_ in high school?” Clint retorted.

“I didn’t think you’d gone to high school, firstly.”

Clint shrugged. “You aren’t wrong. But circus-ing involved shit that looked good, so…” he gestured to the table.

“I want to join a circus,” Harley muttered, a look of intense focus as he worked a pair of fancy scissors. Tony didn’t even know where Clint had gotten half these supplies.

“Stay in the Tower long enough, and it’ll feel like a circus,” Clint told him. “Watch where you’re waving that thing,” he added to Peter, who was dusting his paper clean of loose materials.

Tony finished and made his way over to the table. Harley’s page had a sketch of a motorbike, entirely in green and covered with glitter. Peter’s had gone a different route: he had the Tower (drawn as a generic one-story brick house with ‘A’ on it) and figures before it (each labelled with an arrow) made out of paddle pop sticks. He’d clothed them appropriately with cut out paper, and coloured the rest in crudely.

Tony wanted to hang them both up on the fridge.

He moved on to Clint’s. It was _completely_ covered in glitter. Clint, seeing him looking, gestured at him to come closer. Then, with all three of them watching, he lifted it up so all the glitter – loose glitter, it seemed – flew off, and he was left with a…

Tony barked out a laugh. The remaining image was a hand, all fingers barring the middle one tucked in.

Clint made Tony hang his up alongside Peter and Harley’s artworks. All three looked much too proud of their creations for people as old as they were, Tony reflected as he stood back to take it in.

“How do you feel about a sleepover?” Tony asked them brightly.

Peter and Harley looked at each other. Tony hoped there wasn’t an unspoken leader between the two of them – he’d read up on what power imbalances could do to friendships and overall morale, and a week honestly wasn’t enough time.

“With…?” Harley looked at him.

“You two, me, anyone else if you want and they’re available,” Tony said. He resisted the urge to rub his hands together.

They looked at each other again. Tony frowned inwardly; maybe they didn’t want to be around someone two or three times their age. Maybe it’d be too much like school. After all, with Tony there, they couldn’t bond over shit-talking about him behind his back, something he was somewhat counting on—

“That’d be great!” Peter burst out. Peter was probably the most positive influence in his life, Tony thought. There was nothing like the sunshine that was his normal face. “We can have a movie marathon and finally have a full game of Monopoly.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on anything you two already have planned.” However, if they _told_ him what they had planned, Tony absolutely would get JARVIS to report back to him about it.

“No, no,” Peter assured him. “It’s perfect! Right, Harley?”

Harley nodded with an enthusiasm Tony had never seen on him before, almost as though he were copying Peter’s movements. “Yup. Like Pete said, movie marathon, finishing Monopoly. And you can finally let us eat ice-cream.”

A number of things went through Tony’s mind at this precise moment. Firstly: he hadn’t expected for Peter to come out as the leader in this partnership. He’d have to analyse Harley’s behaviour a little more to see if there was any hint of unwillingness involved in going along with anything Peter had suggested. Additionally… he hadn’t thought that anything would get Harley to change his attitude towards _anything_ , but Peter had managed it. Was this another sign of folding under peer pressure?

The second thought was much less complex. “I’ll dig out _one_ box of ice-cream and that’s the max. I don’t need you two bouncing off the walls halfway through _Star Wars_.”

 

* * *

 

The itinerary for the sleepover was relatively simple, as a sleepover should be. They would start with Monopoly, while energy and motivation were at peak levels. (This would be from about seven in the afternoon.) Dinner would be held before it, but there would be plenty of snacks during the game. Then, after finishing that (at roughly midnight), they’d start their movie marathon. About one movie in, they’d play a cliché game like _Truth or Dare_ if they were feeling restless. Or go for a jog around the gym. 

Tony had never felt as excited for something in living memory. He couldn’t understand it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” he asked Pepper one final time, pausing at their bedroom door with his head poked in. “They love you. And we’ve never had a sleepover.”

Pepper laughed. “Tony, we technically have a sleepover every night. And I adore the two of them, but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open another minute.” 

Tony pouted. “One day, we’re having a _proper_ sleepover. Sharing a bed doesn’t count, because if it did, practically every overnight mission would be classified as a sleepover.”

Pepper opened one eye, like a cat. “If you don’t go now, they’ll deal you the shitty piece.”

Tony held out a tiny Iron Man. “I have my own.”

The thing was, Tony was pretty good at Monopoly. He’d played it during college – he and Rhodey and few of their other dormmates had had a running game for a month straight that they all took breaks from to get to classes and study – and his family (both the Avengers and the one that consisted of Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper) set it out at least once a month.

And there was the fact that his life was pretty similar to the game itself.

But every journal article and blog post and twitter rant that Tony had read these last few weeks had told him that he, under no circumstances, could beat the kids.

Harley squinted at him. “Are you _sure_ you don’t wanna buy May Fair?” he asked dubiously.

“Why?” Peter said, leaning over. “You have double the money you need.”

“Do you two _want_ to lose?” Tony said in exasperation. “Consider it a strategy.”

“It’s a shit strategy,” Harley said bluntly. “This is why Pepper runs the company, isn’t it?”

“Harley, think fast!” A grape flew past Tony’s face and he briefly saw his life flash before his eyes before it hit Harley’s cheek with a wet smack.

Harley wiped his face. “Fuck you, Parker. You know my reflexes are average. And I wear _glasses_.” He popped the grape, that had fallen on the floor, into his mouth.

Tony’s mind was suddenly Internet Explorer with the onslaught of things he had to process. “Hey, no swearing,” he said to Harley. “And no throwing things at each other!” he added to Peter.

Peter gave him an apologetic look (that wasn’t nearly apologetic enough). “Sorry, Mr Doctor Stark,” he said with an angelic face. 

Tony sighed. He really needed to have that conversation with May on child management and punishment. For possibly the first time, he remembered that Rhodey had a sister.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to them. “Bathroom.”

“Didn’t you just come back from the bathroom?” Harley asked.

“Hey, respect my bladder and I’ll respect yours.”

As he walked out of the room, he could hear Harley mutter, “How could I not respect your fifty-year-old bladder? Knowing you, it’s solid gold”, making him smile.

“How’s Jeannie?” was the first thing Tony said when Rhodey picked up. “No, don’t answer that – unimportant. Unless she’s not okay. Anyway, you and Jeannie got into fights, right?”

“Yes?” Rhodey answered. His voice wasn’t even confused – which Tony appreciated – meaning he’d been worn down by three decades of Tony’s strange phone calls. 

“What did your mother do when you guys talked each other down?”

Rhodey paused. “Um,” he said. “Told us not to?”

Tony let out an aggravated sigh. “That’s it?” he said. “You expect me to handle two teenagers with that kernel of wisdom?”

Tony could practically hear Rhodey shrug. “I dunno, Tones. Put downs and talking shit are part of the sibling package. But usually everyone involved knows you’re saying it out of a place of love or whatever.”

“So you’re saying _nothing_ Jeannie ever said got to you?”

Rhodey snorted. “Hell, no. Don’t tell her this, but one time she told me my face looked like a piece of lettuce that’d fallen out of a sandwich and been left on the pavement in the middle of summer for three days, and it _still_ gets to me.”

Tony cracked a smile. “I’m telling her—”

“If you tell her, I’ll tell her about that time—”

“You said you’d never bring that up again! I’ll downgrade War Machine, Rhodes, just you watch— oh, and what winning? Should I skew it so they win an even amount of times?”

"If you tell Jeannie, I'll never give you kid advice again."

"Fine, I won't tell her."

Tony could hear Rhodey silently filing away the fact that he could use the boys as blackmail. It was fine -  _Tony_ still remembered that summer of their third year. "They're too smart and old for that, man. They'd pick up on it. You just gotta make sure they don't feel bad about losing. But don't give them consolation prizes, 'cause those do the  _opposite_ of what they're supposed to do."

Harley and Peter were both exactly where Tony had left them. They were speaking in hushed tones about something, Peter looking up at Harley from where he lay on his stomach, while Harley sat across from him cross legged. Tony paused for a minute, watching them and marvelling that something in his life had led him here to these two remarkable individuals.

And then Peter slammed a hand over Harley’s mouth. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tony called out in alarm, making his way over at a slightly faster walk. “No violence!”

“Harley was about to say ‘Macbeth’,” Peter blurted out. “That’s bad luck.”

Tony stared at him. “Yeah, in a _theatre_.”

“The rules have changed,” Peter told him. “Now, it’s bad luck everywhere anytime.” He wrinkled his face suddenly, withdrawing his hand and rubbing it on Harley’s leg. “Gross,” he complained.

_Was it bullying to lick someone’s hand?_

(The real astonishing thing was the number of times his thoughts began with ‘is it bullying’.)

“Let’s get back to the game, or we’ll never keep to the schedule,” Tony said, not wanting to discuss the ‘rule changes’ behind the Macbeth curse. 

Harley and Peter nodded like puppets on strings, Peter sitting upright and stretching so his spine cracked audibly.

“Prepared to face defeat?” Peter said, looking at Harley with narrowed eyes, as though he expected some cowboy movie soundtrack to begin playing.

Harley raised an eyebrow. “Parker, you have no idea how much debt you’re about to face.”

“Face it, Keener, you’re a bankrupt lampshade already,” Peter said. “The only thing holding you to this plane of existence is that one hotel you have.”

Alarm bells fired up in Tony’s brain. “Fuck,” he cried out, tilting sideways and toppling onto the floor. He clutched his chest dramatically, screwing up his face.

“Mr Stark?”

“Tony?”

Simultaneous calls of his name rang out, and Tony hoped to any higher power currently available that he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself.

“Chest pain,” he got out through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” 

_“Are you having a heart attack?”_ Harley, as always, was blunt.

“JARVIS, call an ambu—”

“No!” Tony said, with as much assertion as was realistic under… circumstances. “No ambulance—”

“Tony, now really isn’t the time to avoid doctors—”

“Just get me aspirin.”

Footsteps shot off and Tony lay there, hoping that his shallow breathing didn’t suddenly cause hiccups or anything. “Hold on, Peter’s coming,” Harley told him. His voice was hard, but Tony could tell he was doing his best to keep it from shaking, and he suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over him. Faking a heart attack – or almost a heart attack – wasn’t something he should take lightly. 

“Here, Tony,” Peter’s voice said. “Chew.”

Fingers pressed against his lips, and Tony opened his mouth enough to let a tiny tablet slip inside. He chewed it, working it around in his mouth as the medicine disintegrated. Maybe now it was okay to open his eyes again.

The first thing he saw were Peter and Harley’s faces, peering at him. Peter let out a relieved smile when he saw him open his eyes again. “Are you feeling better now?” he asked.

Harley watched him silently, waiting for an answer.

Tony nodded, letting his head fall back to the floor. “I don’t think it was anything major—” he tried to say, before he was cut off by Harley. 

“You need to get it checked out. It could be the first sign of something really wrong.”

“Harley, I’m sure it’s fine—”

“Tony, please?” Peter said this time.

Tony opened his mouth, the guilt once again hitting him hard as he looked at the worry on both of their faces. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go see my doctor.” He watched as they visibly showed relief, and wished his brain had come up with another way of getting out of playing Monopoly. “I’m sorry for ruining our sleepover,” Tony added.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Harley said. “We can just move to the calmer activities. You should stay here with us now, anyway. So we can keep an eye on you in case you get worse.”

The rest of the night was spent with Tony lying on the long couch, built to hold the three bulkiest Avengers, playing out various scenarios in his head of Pepper’s reaction when he told her that he’d faked chest pains to get out of playing Monopoly. Harley and Peter were seated on the armchairs, and there was a running commentary from both of them.

It might not have gone the way any of them had expected, but no one would be able to say that the sleepover wasn’t a success. At least Tony hadn’t died from a heart attack. And Peter and Harley were much better off without Monopoly ruining their tenuous friendship.

He hoped Rhodey would never ask him how it went.

 

####  **1\. He’s Forcibly Relinquished Of The Kids But There Might Be An Alien Invasion So Maybe It’s A Good Thing (Wherein The Words “We Need To Talk” Are Spoken And It’s Not By Whom You Might Expect)**

A number of things happened during the next day that Tony found insanely suspicious. What he was suspicious of, he had no idea. But someone was plotting something, and the only thing Tony knew was that it wasn’t a hostile external force that began it. It was a hostile _internal_ power.

“What do you mean, you’re taking the kids for half the day?” Tony asked for the fourth time, following Happy and Rhodey into the elevator. 

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re the wine uncles, Tones. We can take the kids out to the park and give them ice cream.” He paused for a moment, examining his cuticles. “Especially since you apparently won’t.”

Tony huffed. “Who told you about the sugar thing?”

Happy laughed. “Wow, boss. I thought Pepper was joking.”

“It was a perfectly rational concern!”

“Yeah, rational,” Rhodey said. “Rational would’ve been to wean them off sugar, not making them go cold-turkey.”

Happy and Tony both turned to look at him.

“What?” Rhodey said. “I have nieces and nephews, you know. I’ve been a wine uncle for _years_ before Tony decided to try his hand at parenting.” 

Tony made a spluttering noise, but it was _nothing_ compared to the way Happy’s eyes widened and the breath he drew in sharply. What was even stranger was the death glare Rhodey gave him.

Tony had no idea what to make of any of that.

He reluctantly let the two of them take Peter and Harley, and settled himself for a long few hours in the lab. He’d been putting off so many different things that the very thought of working was stress-inducing.

Steve was leaning against the door to his workshop when Tony got there.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said. “Fancy meeting you here.” Immediately after saying this, he slapped his ear – the one not visible to Tony – as though a pesky mosquito had bitten him, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony said in confusion. “I should be the one saying that. Need anything?”

Steve suddenly gazed at Tony with an earnest look he hadn’t seen from him since before Steve had moved into the Tower. “Actually,” he said, in a voice that _instantly_ made Tony wary, “I was having trouble with this thing on that art tablet you got me.” 

“Yeah?”

Steve nodded, looking at Tony. His eyes were slightly widened, Tony noted. “Yeah, I—” He bent down, intending to get it from where it rested by his feet (there was a sketchpad there too, along with Steve’s pencil case, and even the _shield_ , and if Tony hadn’t been confused before, he certainly was now). “Shit.” Steve, paragon of athleticism and grace and flexibility, had stepped on it, and now it had a giant cracked screen. Tony could see green hints of the motherboard.

“Are you okay?” he asked, even as he helped Steve pick up the pieces. It looked like the poor man was about to cry. Maybe Bruce had finally gotten him _drunk_.

“I’m fine,” Steve said, staring at the broken pieces in his hand.

Tony leaned in and sniffed subtly; there was no scent of alcohol on him. “It’s fine, Steve. I can have it back up and running in a few hours. Depending on whether I have all the materials—” 

“Wait!” Steve said. He’d grasped Tony’s shoulder with one hand, stopping him from entering the lab. “Are you busy?”

“I was about to go into the lab and do boring, mindless work,” Tony told him. “Fixing this’ll be a lot more fun. You can watch or help, if you want.”

“Actually, what I came here to ask was whether you wanted to get lunch?” Steve said weakly.

“I—” Tony glanced at his watch. “Sure?” It was barely eleven. “Did you want brunch instead?”

Steve nodded so hard, Tony’s head hurt for him. “Yes, absolutely. Are you ready? You look ready.” He gently took the pieces of the broken tablet from Tony and placed them on the ground. “Let’s go now.”

Tony let himself be led away, hoping he didn’t look as alarmed as he felt. Maybe Steve was possessed.

Steve didn’t pause for anything or anyone, instead talking up a storm as he led Tony out of the building and down the street. 

“—then Gabe and Morita jumped out of the bushes, and—”

“Steve,” Tony interrupted, as gentle as he could be while still getting Steve’s attention. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I—yes,” Steve said, looking for the first time that day like himself. “That little corner shop that has really nice waffles.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. Carry on, then.”

His mind travelled as he listened to Steve’s story, trying to connect all the dots with the limited information he possessed. Harley and Peter were with Happy and Rhodey doing…

Tony hadn’t asked them what they were doing, assuming it’d be something in the Tower. The list of things he didn’t know was slowly becoming staggering.

Next – Steve had been waiting outside his workshop, with his shield and a sketchpad, two items that were completely contradictory, based on previous history. Steve never brought his shield around when he was only moving around in the Tower, unless he had reason to. (Tony could still remember in the early days, when Steve had carried it around with him _everywhere_ , bringing it with him to breakfast, the bathroom, movie nights; he liked to think Steve felt comfortable enough there now – considered it home, even – to leave it behind.)

Then there was the business with the sketchpad, which was equally as puzzling, if not more – Steve already _had_ a sketchpad that he left in Tony’s workshop, because he liked to sketch in there. In fact, the one he currently used in the 'shop he’d bought the previous week. 

So _something_ was up, and the only things that were currently jumping to Tony’s mind were possession and cloning.

It was a good thing he’d had his glasses on him when Steve had decided to abduct him.

“You order for me,” Tony told him, flicking through every single reading he could do with them. “I’m not a picky eater.”

Steve smiled and went back to scanning the menu. “How do you feel about their specialty? Waffles with kiwis and ice cream. And there’s an accompanying kiwi and white chocolate sundae with it.”

Tony hummed noncommittally. All the readings were fine, but that didn’t mean that this was Steve in front of him. He decided to get backup.

_I think a Steve clone kidnapped me_ , he typed on his phone, sending it to the whole team, Happy, and Pepper.

“Tony?”

Tony looked up. “The sundae sounds great, but maybe not waffles with kiwi.”

Steve seemed surprised that Tony had been paying attention. Hell, _Tony_ was surprised he’d picked up on that much. “Okay, do you wanna go with a classic strawberry and banana combo?”

“Sure. What’re you getting?” 

“I’ll have the same.”

Tony waited patiently for his backup – and food – taking small sips of water to hide the fact that he was paying more attention to the readings running across his glasses than he was to Steve’s increasingly complicated story.

“Wait, back up. Who did the goat belong to again?” he asked at one point. He had absolutely no idea what was happening in the rest of the tale, but if he didn’t make little comments throughout it, Steve would know something was up.

“To Dum-Dum’s mistress,” Steve told him.

Confusion seemed to be the running theme of the day. “How exactly did Dum-Dum have a mistress in the middle of Italy during the war? I thought you said none of you had ever been.”

“She moved.”

At that moment, there was a flash beside the window, and Tony and Steve looked to see Harley and Peter waving at them while Rhodey and Happy stood behind them. Tony had a very brief moment of complete panic at the thought of exposing Harley and Peter to what might be an alien or AIM invention designed to do…whatever AIM had designed it to do. Which was nothing good.

And then he realised saw that Natasha had responded to the text. _Nope. Definitely Steve. He’s just acting a little strange because we introduced him to the Brony fandom._

_Without me?!_ Tony typed back with rapid speed before putting his phone and glasses away.

“Hey, kids,” Tony greeted them. “Pull up chairs. Have the old crones given you anything to eat?”

“We had ice cream for breakfast, and then ice cream sandwiches for an early lunch, and then ice cream for a snack in the middle,” Peter said solemnly.

Tony looked at him. “I miss the days the sight of me struck fear and awe in you.”

Peter shrugged. “You still do. The fear’s mostly at the thought of the beard maintenance, though.”

Rhodey whooped. “Kid, you’re my favourite. Keep it up, and he’ll take to my methods soon.”

Tony snorted. “What, of looking like an egg?” 

“Boss, I wouldn’t get into a discourse about facial hair,” Happy said from the corner where he was typing into his phone like a maniac. “Not when you spend forty minutes in the bathroom every morning and night.”

Tony frowned. “Knowing about my morning schedule’s understandable, but night, too? Hap, I love you, but quit—”

“We have a group chat,” Happy told him, eyes still on the screen. “Its sole purpose is judging you. Pepper’s the most active.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said, drawing the word out. “Let’s not go giving away all our secrets.”

At Rhodey’s words, Steve seemed to sit up straighter. Tony ignored him, as he’d tried doing this whole day. “I’m hurt you don’t rant about me in the chat I’m in, where I talk shit about all of you. Also, when did this group chat start up? Why wasn’t I invited?”

Harley cleared his throat. “Hey, are you drinking that?” he asked Tony, nodding at the untouched sundae sitting in front of him.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Stick your finger out,” he said. “I need to check your blood sugar level.”

Instead of complying, Harley turned to Happy. “Hey, Happy?” he asked.

“Yeah, kid?” 

“Can I get a sundae?”

“Sure.”

“Even if Tony told me not to?”

“Go nuts. And use the card in your pocket. It’s there for a reason.” 

“I see what you mean by wine uncle,” Tony said. “So this is what happens when you leave the kid with the babysitter. I ever have a kid, I’m not—”

There was a choking noise from beside Tony. Turning in mild alarm, Tony saw Steve gulp down an entire glass of water, waving a hand at him to say he was fine. When he turned back to the rest of them, they were all on their phones.

“Okay, I’m done with brunch. Any of you want food? No?” Tony stood up. “Steve, c’mon, let’s go fix your tablet and leave these four to themselves for another forty-eight minutes till I get the kids back.”

Steve stood up as well. “Okay, Tony,” he said.

Tony hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. Maybe Steve really was just reeling from seeing grown men in pony costume. Maybe he’d been hangry, but more hung _-weird_. Rhodey and Happy stood up with them too.

“We’re about done,” Rhodey said, with a sideways glance at Happy. “We’ll come with.”

This was probably the only thing that’d gone even remotely right today, Tony thought, walking back to the Tower with Peter and Harley on either side of him. Both were like eager puppies yapping away with one another, but every time Tony said anything he’d be included in the fray as though he’d always been there.

Maybe he’d really done it. His methods had _actually_ _worked_. He’d successfully made Peter and Harley friends.

Tony was still reeling with the weight of this revelation when the elevator opened to the common floor. He was still reeling with it when Rhodey, Happy, and Steve walked ahead of them, Happy finally putting his phone away. And he was definitely not over it when he, with Peter and Harley, walked into the living room.

There were purple and silver streamers everywhere. The dining table had been covered with a shimmery purple tablecloth and filled to the brim with dessert items, with what appeared to be a massive three-tier cake in the centre. There were balloons, tied up together and weighed down by tiny little bags, placed all around the room. Something soft was playing in the background, music that could barely be heard over the hum of people talking.

The entire floor was covered with people, all of whom Tony knew. The Avengers were there, of course, along with people from SHIELD that Tony got along with. His science circle was there too: the Pyms, the Richards, Hank McCoy, the Wakandan princess Shuri. He saw Peter wave to May Parker, who was chatting to Maria Hill and Jane Foster.

There were no banners telling him whether he’d missed someone else’s birthday or his own. 

“Tony,” Pepper said, breathless as she reached him. She was wearing that wraparound purple dress she’d bought with him that one time they’d had spare time after a conference in Kuala Lumpur.

“Pep, hi,” Tony said in relief. She was used to him forgetting important dates – she wouldn’t be too offended. (Probably.) He’d make it up to her. “What’s this for?”

Pepper smiled at him, radiant, but tinged with nerves. Tony had no idea what Pepper was nervous about. “Tony, we need to talk,” she said.

Pepper led him down into one of the spare guest rooms. Her hand was clammy in his. “The party thing wasn’t my idea – Peter and Harley and Clint wanted it – and I figured I might as well let them have it,” she said.

A party was a good thing, Tony reasoned. It meant no one was dying or anything extreme like that—

“I’m pregnant,” Pepper said frankly.

Tony’s world stopped for a millisecond before realigning itself. It was one of those instances that he’d never be able to recall objectively, when he thought back on it. At that exact moment, it was as though he’d just jumped out of an airplane with no parachute.

Pepper was peering at him, gauging his reaction. Tony let a wet chuckle that soon turned into full blown incredulous laughter. He was probably crying, too, but at that moment he didn’t exactly care.

“Oh my god,” he said. “You’re serious?”

She nodded, a tentative smile spreading over her face.

“Everything makes so much _sense_ now,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “How long have you known?”

“A couple weeks,” Pepper said. “You’re…okay with this, right? I know you’ve changed a lot about how you feel about kids since Peter happened – hell, since _Harley_ happened – but this one would be completely ours to raise, not just mentor…”

Tony nodded emphatically. “I don’t even have the words to say how okay I am about this,” he said. There was probably a time, maybe around five years ago – or even two – where the thought of raising a child in a world such as this would’ve made Tony break into cold sweat, where the thought of _having_ a child would’ve made him run as fast as possible. Tony wasn’t that person anymore, but even if he was, there were plenty of people here to make sure their child had the best life possible.

“Okay, good,” Pepper said, suddenly all business. “Because everyone out there thinks you already know, and are fashionably late because you got distracted with work or Iron Man. Harley and Peter picked out your clothes,” she pointed to the closet, “put those on and meet me outside.”

“Hey, question,” he said. “Was Steve in on this?”

Pepper snorted. “Yup. He was told to keep you distracted and away from the Tower. His acting skills are so much better in co-ops. We even had him on comms to help him out.”

“I’m going to be making fun of him _forever_ ,” Tony told her with glee.

Before Pepper could go, Tony grabbed her hand, drawing her in and kissing her deeply. Her arms wound around his head, and he could feel the shaky giddiness that had taken over his limbs echo in hers.

Finally, he pulled away. “I’ll be right out,” he promised, before opening the closet to see what monstrosity the boys had left for him.

 

####  **+1. Apparently He Was Completely Blind To A Number Of Things (In Which Peter And Harley Set The Record Straight)**

The Avengers stuck around after the party to help clean up, and then slowly trickled out. Rhodey had had to rush off for something, but he promised to come by later to “make sure the baby’s named after me”.

Tony and Pepper were left with Harley and Peter putting away all the leftover food and sweeping up the streamers. Someone had popped all the balloons, which Tony silently appreciated, and now all they had to do was make sure there were no stray plastic cups strewn around the place. He had long since abandoned the sequinned purple and silver suit and top hat he'd been made to wear, and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

“When’re you coming back to visit us?” Pepper asked Harley conversationally. The two of them were standing by the food table, eating bits of icing from the massive cake that they’d just put away.

Peter spoke up from where he was sweeping up confetti. “He’s staying with me in the midterm break. We’re having like a week-long sleepover, just with more schoolwork.”

Tony poked his head up excitedly. With the news of the baby, he’d almost forgotten that he’d accomplished his objective. “So I take it you two are friends now?” he said.

Pepper’s faced took on a look of deep resignation.

“Yes?” Harley said.

“Fuck yes,” Tony muttered. He resisted the urge to pump his fist like he was under the age of thirty, and instead walked over to the boys, slinging an arm over a shoulder each and tugging them close together. “JARVIS, add this to my resume.”

“Wait,” Peter said. “What?”

“I’ve spent this whole week making you two friends,” Tony said with a wide grin. “I did a shittonne of research, too, so it was all very scientific.”

Harley and Peter stared at him.

“Tony,” Harley said slowly. “I say this out of a place of friendship. What the fuck are you on about?”

Tony beamed. His work must’ve been more subtle and flawless than he’d realised. “I made sure you two wouldn’t feel left out, or replaced, or jealous of each other, or hate each other on principle or because you’re teens and teens do that sometimes, or—”

“Oh my god,” Peter said. “Is this why you were acting so weird this week?”

Harley hit Peter’s shoulder energetically. “I _wasn’t_ imagining it!” he said. “I thought maybe you were just different _here_ in real life!”

“No, see,” Tony tried to explain, “my methods definitely worked. Because you two are friends now, not mortal enemies.”

“We were already friends,” Peter said, cocking his head to the side. “Harley’s really cool.”

“We got along the second we met,” Harley told Tony. “All you really did was… I don’t actually know what you really did.” 

In the background, Tony could see Pepper aiming a phone at the three of them. “Are you kidding me?” he said. “I changed the whole interior of half the rooms in this place so there wouldn’t be aggro, negative colours! I brought my glasses along every time we were anywhere so I could be the exact same distance from both of you! I even kicked Steve out of his room for this week so your rooms would be the exact same distance from mine!”

In the silence that followed, the only thing that Tony heard was Peter mutter, “So _that’s_ why he’s down the hall now.”

Harley’s hands were hiding his face and his shoulders shook with laughter. “Tony,” he said. “I appreciate the effort – not really, but still – but this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” He rubbed at his eyes as they watered.

Tony spluttered wordlessly in shock.

Peter came up to him and gave him a hug. Tony’s arms automatically circled around the boy; this was only their second hug initiated by Peter. “Mr Stark, Harley’s right,” he said frankly. “You’re really dumb. I’m hugging you right now so that won’t be as harsh as it sounds.”

Tony let out a laugh. “But seriously,” he said. “After all the work I went through, you can’t tell me that none of it had an impact. It might not be causation, but there’s definitely a chance of something I did being a factor.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Fine, maybe the room thing had a positive impact on our relationship because it made it easier to sneak into each other’s room after you gave us a bedtime—”

Tony jumped to attention. “I put that bedtime in place so you two wouldn’t be cranky during the day and take it out on one another!” he said, pointing at Harley accusingly.

Harley shrugged. “Guess that wasn’t one of the factors that had the desired outcome? We weren’t cranky, though.”

“Tony,” Peter said, “I think accepting that we were friends without any…help… might be the healthiest route.”

“I refuse to accept that.”

Harley brightened suddenly. “Hey, do you have records of all the stuff you did? I wanna read them.”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Confidential.” Harley and Peter would probably disown him if they ever found out about the Monopoly thing. Or worse: look at him with those watery wounded puppy eyes. 

Peter pouted slightly. “But they’re about _us_.”

Tony waved a hand. “Most experiments involve a someone. Doesn’t mean they get to read the raw data.”

“But we’re already friends. It’s not going to ruin us,” Harley added.

“If you’re especially good, I’ll give it to you as a birthday present.”

Harley looked skeptical. “Fine,” he said. “But I hope your judgement of ‘good’ isn’t like your judgement of friendship.”

Tony deleted the files.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/)


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